


Ugh, battle.

by MamaBirdNerd



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: "friends" lmao, Female My Unit | Byleth, Gen, Pre-Time Skip, but his friends are too confident in his abilities, byleth is popular with all the houses, daily life at the monastery, he just wants to live his life, linhardt is a sassy lil boy and isn't used to people actually getting him to do things, no beta we die like Glenn, poor sleepy boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21665590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaBirdNerd/pseuds/MamaBirdNerd
Summary: Linhardt is more of the moral support type.
Relationships: Linhardt von Hevring & My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	Ugh, battle.

“Linhardt!” The professor’s voice rang out across the Training Grounds as Ferdinand skulked out of the sand, nursing bruised knuckles and arms. Linhardt raised his head, blinking several times to bring his instructor into focus. She was staring at him which was never a good sign. It usually meant he had missed a question.

“Professor,” he drawled back, matching her cadence. He didn’t move from his seat in the shadow of a pillar. 

Her face remained, as always, unsettlingly neutral. He noted that she had crossed her arms– the only indication that she was bothered at all by his response. Despite her own lack of expressiveness, she was remarkably good at seeing through his cheeky distractions and lazy smiles. He had been caught and he knew it. She also knew that he knew. 

She tapped a discarded training sword with her own, giving him a pointed look. He didn’t budge.

“Ah. A very nice blade you have there. Probably not the best move leaving it on the ground though. Goddess forbid, someone might trip!” Several students heaved sighs. Others gave surprised murmurs that the young noble was so brazenly ignoring her implications.

“I have to agree with you on that one. Care to pick it up for me? Give it a swing while you’re at it?” she hummed with all the patience in the world.

“Rather a waste of energy, is it not? I would think you of all people would want me to be productive.” 

“Astute as always, von Hevring. Perhaps you would like to see how to swing a blade without wasting energy then?” She matched him blow for blow in their battle of wills. Linhardt had to admit, he was a bit surprised that she was playing along. 

“A generous offer, Professor, but I would hate to take time away from others who wish to study your fine swordsmanship first hand. I’m quite content to compare notes and observe from here.” Linhardt gestured to the book on his lap. “This way I can have a reference for when I practice on my own.” Utter bullshit. He maintained eye contact and his good-natured smile.

And the Professor simply shifted her weight onto one leg, unwilling to even acknowledge that claim.

The other Black Eagles were casting glances his way. Edelgard and Hubert seemed less than pleased, but quite honestly, that didn’t bother him. They were never happy with him; so troublesome to please. Frankly, he had stopped trying around the fifth time Hubert had come to pay him vaguely threatening compliments on Edelgard’s behalf. 

What was troubling was the encouragement and humor in the others’ eyes. Some of them seemed to believe his glaring lie. Others didn’t but certainly wouldn’t call him on it.

“Linhardt, I would be most excited to be seeing the skills you have been helping me with!” Petra piped up. Ever earnest, that one. Dorthea was shooting an amused smirk his way from the Brigidian’s side,

“Yeah, Lin. How could we miss a chance to see your infinite wisdom put into practice?”

He shot her a discreet scowl. She just grinned wider and fluttered her eyelashes innocently.

He relaxed against the column again, schooling his features as their instructor would,

“I’m more of a moral support type than someone who’s going to- Agh!” He was interrupted as Caspar betrayed him, heaving him up from under the armpits like an unhappy cat. He was deadweight, but Caspar didn’t seem to care in the slightest. The boy pushed him off towards the sand with a hearty slap between the shoulder blades. 

"You got this, buddy! No need to play the saint! Show our Prof what you've got!"

Damn Caspar and his endless capacity to encourage. 

Linhardt stumbled out into the arena, book tumbling off his lap and nearly tripping him on his way. He managed to avoid getting a mouthful of sand, regaining his balance under the scrutinizing stare of the Professor. He gave her a wary look, less confident now without the shelter of the shaded sidelines. 

She flipped the extra training sword across the sand to him with the tip of her blade, mouth crooking into a faint smirk,

"Glad you finally decided to join me."

There was a murmur of snickering from the students of various houses, gathered in hopes of getting a chance to spar with the former mercenary once she had finished with her own students. Claude seemed to be striking a bet with Hilda about how quickly the match would end. 

Linhardt picked up the training sword. Sword-fighting was another one of those things that he knew about “in theory.” He had little interest in participating but had picked up a bit here and there over the years. It’s hard to grow up in a noble family without someone shoving a weapon in your hands. The staff of the von Hevring family had quickly come to learn that forcing him to fight would do them no good. Eventually he had been allowed to watch from the sidelines as others his age learned physical combat.

Of course then he stopped showing up entirely. Boy had Caspar given him a hard time then. Hopefully what he had picked up would keep him from making a complete fool of himself.

The green-haired boy kept an eye on the Professor. She had the reputation of jumpstarting these sparring matches with little warning.

“Professor,” his tone took on a hint of a whine, “Surely you aren’t serious? I’m a lover, not a fighter!”

The woman easily slid into a ready stance, 

“When have you known me to joke, Linhardt?” 

He opened his mouth to reply, but she took that moment to lunge forward. In a panic, he threw up the training sword. It caught her downswing and a sharp stab of pain shot through his hands from the force of it. 

He choked out a squeak and hopped back away from her. There was only time to readjust his grip before he was diving out of the way of another assault. A frustrated growl could be heard from Felix in the audience as the mage chose to continue ducking and rolling instead of actually using the weapon provided to him. 

She forced him back towards the corner, swings looking disproportionately lazy given the way her student was struggling. With no easy escape, he was forced to catch several of the blows with his practice sword. 

His aggressor feinted left, leaving an opening through which Linhardt made a last ditch effort to duck through. The Professor slid her foot out and landed a sharp blow to his ribs as he attempted to regain his balance. He let out a pitiful gasp as he went sprawling, kicking up sand. He started to raise his head only to feel the point of the Professor’s weapon press against the back of his neck. 

He dropped his head back into the sand with a groan. That hadn’t taken long. 

Hilda snatched a handful of coins from Claude with a smug laugh.

The Professor stepped away from him and lowered her blade,

“So. Tell me where you went wrong.” 

By the third bout, he had been hit across the ribs twice and most recently, taken a hit across his shoulder that would surely bruise. Linhardt was quite finished. He made no effort to stand even as the Professor came to loom over his supine form.

Staring up at her from the sand, he pouted, 

“I’m starting to think you enjoy doing that.” He accepted her hand to help him up, wincing as the motion strained his abused shoulder. 

Her demeanor had softened considerably, tension dropping away from her body as she tucked her sword back into her belt. 

He puffed a relieved sigh and made to brush the sand off of his uniform at last. The Professor dismissed her class, pausing next to him to murmur, 

“I figure that was more productive than comparing sword fighting notes with your guide to Fodlan fishing.”

He blinked, glancing to where his book lay on the ground. It was open to a page depicting various lure types, propped just slightly to where it was visible from the center of the training grounds. 

Looking back to the Professor, he couldn’t help but give a quick eye roll,

“Alright, I yield. You caught me. Consider this lesson learned.” 

She graced him with a rare genuine smile and continued across the grounds to where several other students were waiting for her attention. He watched her go with a bemused chuckle before retrieving his book and making a quick exit, lest anyone try to catch him and talk about the beating he had just taken. 

His eyes watered as a yawn overcame him. He had certainly earned this nap, and what a nap it would be.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short little thing I wrote and figured wouldn't go anywhere after this. First time posting anything so I have no idea what I'm doing! I need to build up my courage to let other people read my writing and this feels like a fairly safe way for me to start. Hopefully I can actually start writing longer pieces to share with you all.  
> At the very least, I hope it made you smile!


End file.
